


Writing Lessons

by Roverandom



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, One Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roverandom/pseuds/Roverandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a hot night, trying to keep from falling asleep, something stirs in Aurora when Mulan suggests a different way in which to practice writing lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> This little one-off was inspired by a beautiful scene in the book "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan" by Lisa See, which I highly recommend you read!

“It’s hot, Aurora. I’m going to open the tent.”

 

“Don’t, please,” I squeaked out, then coughed to clear my throat. I was hot as well, but I dare not stare out into the blank nothingness of that forest, not even if it meant some reprieve from the blistering night. When I had been asleep for so long, I was surrounded by nothingness, and that was worse than darkness. At least in darkness, there is something to fear. Something to occupy the mind. When there’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to feel, and at that point you might as well be dead.

 

Mulan dropped her hand, and I saw the concern in her eyes as she gently stooped down to place a gloved hand on my head. I took her hand, and turned it over so I could look at her palm, as though inspecting the quality of the stitching. In actuality, I just wanted to find an excuse to draw her closer. I felt safe under her protection. She had shown me time and time again that she would not abandon me. Even when it would benefit her if she did. It might have been silly of me to think, but I felt that at least if she was close to me, some of that protection might follow me into the otherworld, where my mind would slip once my eyes were too heavy to stay open any longer.

 

“Why don’t you take off these gloves for starters?” I said. “You can’t expect to stay cool with so much armor on.”

 

“No, but I can’t be expected to protect you without it.”

 

I felt my chest warming from the inside when she said this. How could I not? She would not look at me, and her voice sounded stern, as though she was chiding me for suggesting such a thing. But I knew better. Her refusal to look at me directly, as well as her stern words, meant that she cared deeply about my well being. I did not know much of her upbringing, but in the time that I knew her she was always the picture of discipline and honor. The perfect knight. And as a knight, she would not dare to let emotion get in the way of her duty. Except with me. The day she saved me and returned my heart from the Evil Queen, I had seen the joy in her face. Watched her eyes lit up when she knew that I was safe. I wasn’t going to believe her words now, especially not when her hand was still in my gentle grasp. She had not pulled it away. I could hear her labored breathing while I still held it in my hand.

 

Emboldened by this, I tugged on the leather tips on each finger to slowly nudge the glove off her hand. She straightened her back and looked uncomfortable, but she did not tell me to stop. So I continued with the other hand.

 

“There,” I said. “Your hands are free. Feel better?”

 

“Not really,” she said, but then she smiled. “Most of the heat is not contained within my hands.” She stopped, as though thinking about the implications of this, and then turned her eyes away again. I could not see much of her face in the pale candlelight, but I imagined that she was blushing.

 

“Can we at least open the panel on the top to let the moonlight in?” She said this after we both fell silent for a moment.

 

I looked up. “Yes. I think that would be nice.” I loved the moon. Its light was cool and soothing, and when I was a little girl it comforted me on nights when I felt so alone. It was a beacon of hope for me in the darkness, when there was no one else to turn to. No matter how dark it got, the moon was a reminder that the sun’s light was just on the other side of the world, and that we would see it once again.

 

Mulan opened the panel and the light flooded in, beaming down on my face like a spotlight. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so I flinched for a moment at the sudden brightness. From where I lay, I could see Mulan looking at me with an expression I could not interpret.

 

“Are you very tired?” she asked.

 

“No,” I lied, but I did not look away fast enough to avoid seeing Mulan’s annoyed expression. I knew she wouldn’t believe me, but I had to try anyway. I sighed in resignation. “Yes.”

 

“You should sleep.”

 

“No,” I said firmly in a tone that implied that I wanted the discussion to end there. But alas, Mulan would not let up on this night, as she had not done for the past several nights.

 

“When have you last slept for a full night? You can’t keep surviving off little cat naps.”

 

Despite my annoyance, I had to smile. Mulan was more like a cat than I. One minute she was relaxed. The next, she was alert and ready to pounce on her prey like a jungle tiger. She was a seasoned warrior and hunter, and I was always impressed by her ability to adjust to the situation at hand. Nothing fazed her.

 

“I just can’t,” I said. “Not tonight.”

 

“I’ll be here,” she said. “I won’t leave you.” This might have been more of her coaxing to try to get me to agree to fall asleep, but I took it as her relenting. She had not once pushed me beyond my limits, and never made me feel bad for having them in the first place. I had started to realize in the past couple days how much this meant to me, and what it said about her that she would do this for me.

 

The warmth inside my chest spread to my neck, and the heat was unbearable now. Mulan didn’t say a word as I removed my outer garments, but I never felt her eyes leave me. I let out a happy sigh when I started to feel the air brush over the sweat of my exposed skin. I already felt much cooler, but it was not enough. There was still a lot of fabric in the way. Then, Mulan also began to remove her armor and outer garments. It would have shocked me several days ago, but I knew she was doing this to make me feel less awkward. And when I saw her take in a deep breath and close her eyes, I knew she was glad for the reprieve from her heavy armor. When she opened her eyes, she looked calm and self-assured. Funny how removing armor often reveals the greater strength that lies underneath. 

 

“Do you want to practice your writing? It will keep you preoccupied.”

 

Mulan had started teaching me her people’s unique character writing by drawing in the dirt with a stick. It was a way to keep us both from becoming anxious at our situation. I found the lines and symbols strangely calming, as well as innately fascinating. However, there were so many to learn. Even the simple ones required hours of practice to memorize and use correctly. I looked around the tent, dumbfounded at this suggestion.

 

“What will I write on? There’s nothing in here.”

 

She thought for a moment, and then she slowly lifted her eyes up to mine and fixed them there. “You can use me.”

 

“What?” I stuttered for a better reply as I felt my cheeks redden. Suddenly, my undergarments were just as stifling as my outer garments had been, and I fought the urge to tear them so I would feel cool once again. I also felt my stomach flip, as though I had eaten something I shouldn’t.

 

“Here,” she said, inching closer to me. “I’ll show you.”

 

From this distance, I could see the lines of her shoulder blades illuminated by the moonlight. My eyes followed them down to the scoop in her blouse, where I saw the shaded outline of the top of her breasts. She was strong, yet supple, just as a woman should be. I felt another rush of shame as I recalled my early words to her when we were first acquainted. Just because she was a knight and had to be strong, it did not mean that she would lose any of her natural femininity.

 

I fixated on Mulan as she gently wet her forefinger in her mouth and then made contact with the skin on my exposed sternum. I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. Goosebumps instantly rose all on my arm and the area she had touched.

 

“Relax,” she cooed. “And concentrate.”

 

I tried to, but all I could think about was the sensation of her finger gliding across my skin. Her strokes were confident and smooth, but I could not make out the character she was trying to trace.

 

“What did I write?”

 

“I—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head. “Don’t focus on failures. It will cloud your mind. Focus on the movement of my fingers. Imagine yourself stepping out of your body and looking down on yourself. Picture it in your mind.”

 

I closed my eyes again, and my body stiffened in anticipation of her touch. When I felt her wet finger glide over my chest and down towards the lining of my undergarments, it should have cooled me down, but I only felt searing heat spread across my prickly skin. It was a different kind of heat. The kind that started in my pelvis and radiated down to my knee caps. I didn’t want her to stop, so instead, I tried to will time to slow down as I focused on each of her strokes. When she finished, I could visualize the character perfectly in my head.

 

“Rose,” I said. It was the first one she had taught me.

 

“Good. Now, another.” She wet her finger again and this time used my arm to trace out another character.

 

“Thorn,” I said.

 

“Good.” She shuffled around me and touched my other arm. “This one you don’t know yet. It’s a little more complicated, and it’s a present tense form of a verb that means ‘has’, but only in this specific context. Focus on these lines. I’ll show you them again in daylight.”

 

She repeated the same process, and I felt the same rush of heat. It was getting unbearable. When she had finished, I looked up at her. She was gazing down at me with her dark, intense eyes. I watched as her eyes wandered from my face, down my chest, and then at the rest of my still-clothed body.

 

“I don’t have enough room for the rest of the characters,” she said.

 

I felt something else stir inside me. It was something dangerous, but thrilling. Excitement bubbled up inside me and begged to be released. I had not felt anything quite like it. Not with Philip. Not with my childhood sweethearts. Not with anyone else. Mulan’s moving fingers must have awoken something in me that had been lying dormant for a very long time. She had used magic to put my heart back in its place. Had something of her transferred over to me in the process? I felt so fearless all of a sudden. Brave. What spell had she cast upon my skin to conjure up these desires I now felt? I didn’t care. I just knew I wanted to make her feel the things I was feeling.

 

I sat up, reached behind my back, and started to untie the laces that held my undergarments from slipping down. She looked at me confused, then when she realized what I was doing, she looked frightened but too intrigued not to look away. Maybe she wanted to see when I would stop, or how far I would go. I didn’t stop.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked, riveted on the shoulder that quickly became exposed when the fabric straps became slack. Then, as I fumbled with the last pair of laces, the rest of the shift fell down into a puddle of loose fabric around my hips. My breasts were now exposed, and my stomach flipped again when I saw her eyes quickly dart down to look at them. Her face was so red it looked like a beet that had just come out of a steaming pot.

 

“I’m giving you more to work with,” I said, and then smirked. “Plus, I need to practice my characters on you.”

 

Tentatively, I reached in to lift up the top layer of her undergarments. Hers did not have laces like mine. They were simple and sturdy. No fuss. Just function. I waited for her to object, but I only saw her swallow hard as she looked so intently at me I thought she might bore a hole through my head. “It feels so cool and freeing, Mulan,” I coaxed gently. “Trust me: you’ll welcome the relief. There is nothing wrong with our naked bodies. We were born with them, and we share the same parts after all.”

 

I lifted the undershirt over her head and took in the sight of her. She was lovely — her long neck accentuated her clavicle bones and her broad chest was complemented by two small, perfect oval-shaped mounds with equally small nipples. They looked more pointed than mine, but we were about the same cup size overall. I had a sudden urge to trace the outline of her areola with my finger, so I could feel the soft bumps on their edges.

 

“Lie down,” I said gently. She obeyed without a word, but I could hear that her breath had become labored again. I was surprised by how much my hands shook as I removed the lower half of her undergarments and saw the distinct triangle of hair between her legs. It looked much darker and coarser than mine, but that was inconsequential. In response, I pushed down the folds of fabric that were my undergarments and kicked them to the side of the tent.

 

We were both completely free now, and I immediately felt more relaxed and confident in what I was about to do. I took my finger, head it up to my mouth, and wet it with my saliva just as she had done. I looked at the flatness of her stomach, and thought that would be a great place to start.

 

“Aurora,” she whispered when I leaned in. “Start here.”

 

I turned to look at her and saw that her lips were trembling. She took my hand, the wet forefinger still extended, and moved it down towards her pelvis.

 

“That way,” she said, after swallowing again. “You have more room to trace on my legs.”

 

I nodded, and then placed my finger on the soft flesh around her hips. Immediately, goose bumps rose on her flesh like they had with me, and I could hear her take in a sharp breath. Her eyes closed, and I saw also that her toes curled downward as she squeezed her thighs together. I worked to remember what she had taught me. After I completed the character, I waited for her response.

 

“Beauty,” she said.

 

I nodded, indicating that she had gotten it right. I wet my finger again and traced down her leg.

 

“You.”

 

I nodded again. I reached my arm over so I could write on her other leg.

 

She hesitated when I had finished, as though either struggling to recognize what I had traced, or wondering whether she should say it out loud. After a moment, she opened her eyes, sat up and looked right at me, the moonlight shining down on her face and giving it the most luminous glow. She was so beautiful in that moment, and her eyes shone at me as if I was the only person she would ever look at again. I was glad I was sitting down. My knees felt weak.

 

“Love,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as though anything louder might render the word meaningless.

 

“Wait,” I said. “I have more to write.”

 

She rested her head back down. I looked where else I could trace the next character. There was her stomach, but the slow rise and fall of her chest drew my eyes back to her breasts. I tapped my finger onto my tongue and then lowered it to the area right underneath her left breast. This time, her breath escaped her mouth in a low moan, and I watched as her nipples tightened in response to my touch. I bent over and blew softly over the wet area, knowing how this would feel. She gasped in response, and I felt her hand rest on the small of my back.

 

“True,” she said. Her hand slipped further down my back and grazed my tailbone. I shivered in response.

 

I had almost completely forgotten about the character I had drawn on her. This close to her body, her nipples looked so inviting, and I knew that if I blew there, it would feel even better. Encouraged by her touch, I leaned in and placed the tip of my tongue on the outline of her breast and slowly moved up towards her areola. She shivered and her hips buckled suddenly, as though she was no longer in control of her body’s reactions. In response, my tongue grazed the tip of her nipple, now completely taut. That’s when everything changed. She gasped louder, and her eyes shot open. Suddenly worried I had gone too far, I pulled back, but she sat up and cupped one hand around my face while the other smoothed over my buttocks and squeezed it gently. Without another words she drew me in for a deep kiss, her tongue dancing across mine. I kissed her back, my hands moving up and down her smooth back. Our bodies pressed together, breast-to-breast, nipple-to-nipple, and together they generated even more heat. The slow burn I had felt growing between my legs suddenly sparked into a wildfire, and there was no going back. When we finally broke away, it was only so she could take a breath and look into my eyes another time.

 

“Yes,” she said, moving the hand that had been around my back and buttocks over to the front and down to the sensitive flesh between my legs. She grazed my clitoris ever so slightly, but it was enough to make me moan in response.

 

“My true love is a rose, far beautiful beyond compare.” She pivoted my body and laid me on my back, her face still inches away from mine. She kissed me on my chin, then my neck, then down my sternum and stomach.

 

“I only hope,” she said, scooting down so that her head was hovering just above my pelvis. “That I may win her love in return, in a way that is just and fair.”

 

With one hand resting on the top of the hair between my legs, she parted the gentle folds of skin with the other, and bent her head down.

 

Waves of pleasure soon blurred my vision, and in the darkness of the night I only saw her, and the way her naked skin glistened in the light. My Mulan. Soft as the moon’s glow, strong as stone, and my light to guide me home.

 

 


End file.
